


Schmoop Bingo!

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2010 <a href="http://schmoop-bingo.livejournal.com/">Schmoop Bingo challenge</a>. My bingo card is <a href="http://schmoop-bingo.livejournal.com/1497.html?thread=200409#t200409">here</a>. I chose the five squares down along the left side: butterfly kisses, massage, flowers, cloud watching, and fair/carnival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schmoop Bingo!

_butterfly kisses_  
"Stop!" Rodney lunged toward John, smacking at the dripping slice of melon in his hand he was raising to his mouth.

John froze, but the melon was at his lips and so was the fuzzy orange-striped winged insect sucking at the melon juice, right at the corner of John's mouth. Rodney tried to slap the melon away but it was too late, John dropped it with a cry and clawed at his mouth.

Their hosts, the jokkhu of T'Entsu and two monks gasped. The jokkhu captured the insect by seizing its wings; it hissed as she pulled it away from John.

"Christ, what _is_ that thing?" John asked, but his words were muffled and his lips already swelling. He inhaled deeply, hoarsely, his eyes wide. Rodney eased John onto his back, listening in fear as his breaths grew noisier, more gasps and wheezes.

"Teyla," Rodney said, but Teyla already had an autoinjector of epinephrine out of its case.

John put his hands on his chest and opened his mouth wider. "Rodney," he wheezed.

"Shut up," Rodney snapped. He saw Ronon race away, back to the stargate. He pulled off the safety cap. "This is gonna hurt," he told John, and jammed the pen into the big muscle of John's thigh. "Hang on," Rodney said. Teyla at next to John's head, resting a hand on his forehead. "Hang on."

He counting silently to ten and them removed the injector, handing it to Teyla who slid it into the case. Massaging John's thigh, Rodney said, "Okay, so I know from experience you're gonna feel like shit: your heart's racing and your mouth is dry. But can you breathe? John?"

John shut his eyes and licked his lips. He nodded. Just below his lower lip, on the right side of his face, a welt had raised, ugly and red. The jokkhu leaned over; Rodney was glad to see she had disposed of the bug. "We must remove the stinger," she said quietly.

"I'll do that," Rodney snapped, but he scooted back so she could kneel next to him and study John's face. "Hi," John gasped.

"Be quiet, Colonel, and please do not move," the jokkhu said. She bent nearer to John, and pointed with a knotted finger. "Ah," she said. "Ahh."

Rodney glanced at Teyla who was studying them closely. He learned onto his elbows, lying next to John, and stared at where the jokkhu pointed. "I see it," he murmured. A tiny dimple in the center of the ferocious red ridge and in it, something thin and black. "How do I . . " He elbowed nearer. She handed him a thin utensil, wooden and flat, and he carefully maneuvered it under the stinger. It fell neatly onto the tool, and everyone sighed.

The jokkhu took it from him. "You will be fine," she told John, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Your family will take care of you now." She rose, folding her arms to slide her hands into the sleeves of the opposite arms. "We will speak again."

Rodney heard the distinctive sound of a puddlejumper door opening and its ramp extending, then running boots. Ronon had already returned with help. Teyla smiled in relief and, with a firm squeeze to John's shoulder, stood to greet their rescuers.

Rodney remained next to John, hunched over him, their faces inches apart. John opened his eyes; they were red and wet, unwilling tears shining in the dust on his face. Rodney thumbed away the tracks. His own throat was swollen, not with anaphylaxis but with fear and relief and affection. "Honestly, John," he choked out. John smiled lopsidedly up at him. Rodney could feel John trembling from the experience and the adrenaline shooting through him. "Jesus," Rodney muttered, and rested his forehead on John's, eyes closed against the sight of his friend's battered and swollen face. Behind him he heard Lorne's voice, and then Biro's, and quickly, without letting himself think about it, he kissed John, first his forehead and then his left, less swollen cheek.

"Rodney," John tried to say, his consonants blurred. "'m okay."

Rodney took a deep breath, patted John's cheek, and made room for the others. "Yeah, yeah," he said. He wiped his face; he was covered in sweat. "You're cool."

John winked at him.

* * *

`This needs a little explanation. It's related to my Teyla story [stars gather, dreams pour into your pillow](http://mirabile-dictu.slashcity.net/SGA/Teyla.html), and describes what happens on Earth immediately after Jeannie, Radek, and Rodney get the Atlantians home. David is John Sheppard's first cousin once removed; Hannah is Evan Lorne's older sister. When the story begins, a homemade stargate on a remote island has just blown out power for the entire west coast of Canada and the US.  
`

Also, I kind of cheated. The square is actually "massage (erotic)," but this tale is not erotic.

 _massage_  
David's vision whited out, and he clapped his hands over his ears at the noise. Squinting, he tried to see through the shower of sparks slowly fading to black, but his vision was blown. Hannah grabbed his shoulder and pulled; he could barely make her out but followed her tugs. She led him back into the hallway and up the stairs, and finally he could see that she was following Jeannie Miller, who carried a flashlight. Its light bounced back from the aluminum corridor revealing the way ahead.

At the top of the stairs Jeannie switched it off and turned back to them, grasping Hannah's hand. "Okay, we need to get out of here right away. Evan and Radek and Laura rigged the building to blow, so we only have about thirty minutes."

"To blow?" David gasped. This was _so cool_ , he thought, grinning. "Wow, I" --

"David," Hannah said, sounding like the confident and experienced spy he was convinced she was. "Not now. Now you fuel the plane as quickly as you can. Jeannie, do you have everything?"

As David hurried toward the Beaver, he saw Jeannie gesture behind her and realized she wore an enormous backpack, the weight nearly pulling her backwards. He wondered if she'd let him see the contents.

The lone light at the fuel pump still gleamed and he realized it had been jerry-rigged to a car battery. These people, he thought admiringly; they thought of everything. The fuel dispenser had been as well, so he was able to pump the high-octane aviation gasoline. He thought he heard velcro tearing, and saw from the corner of his eye Hannah help Jeannie into the backseat of the plane, heard their soft voices. Beyond them, the water glimmered beneath a sky thick with stars, the dense arch of the Milky Way glowing. He tried to imagine seeing his galaxy from the outside, seeing the galactic plane of another galaxy from another world. He could not, he decided, and clicked off the pump.

Clambering into the pilot's seat and buckling the seat belt, David asked, "Ready?" He flicked a switch and the instrumental panel glowed, comforting in this very dark night. "How much time've we got?"

"None," Jeannie said, sounding tense.

He started the engine and began to taxi away from the dock.

"Hurry," Hannah said, and he gunned the motor, moving faster than he liked but feeling the women's tension. He peered ahead, looking for obstacles, remembering the size and shape of the inlet. A small fairway buoy came into view and he accelerated.

"Buckled in?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the faint gleam of the water ahead of him.

"Go," Jeannie said urgently, and he went. He took a deep breath, straightened up, sent a thought to his cousin John, and gave himself to the hazards of this take-off.

The familiar growl of the engine intensified and water splashed at the pontoons. He felt the tail dip, heard the women shouting to each other, increased acceleration slowly until the water finally released them. He pulled up sharply, relieved, when suddenly the scene before him flipped from night to day and again his ears were assaulted.

"Holy shit!" he shouted, laughing, because he was young and safe and had successfully escaped -- he'd escaped and rescued his friends! Jeannie clapped her hands, and Hannah laughed, turning to high-five Jeannie, nearly clouting him on the ear. He twisted around in his seat, trying to see, then banked to the left. The building slid into view: no flames twisted from its doors but the site glowed deep red and gold.

"Don't fly over it," Jeannie shouted over the engine. "More coming!"

David increased altitude, heading east and inland, toward the interior of the island but he kept the site in view. He had decided Jeannie was wrong, that there would be no further explosions, or maybe it had already gone off. His vision returned to normal as the actinic light faded, leaving blue spots floating before him. Then the building flattened. Just flattened as if sucked inward. Imploded, one part of his mind thought, and then his floatplane skipped sideways, pushed aside by the explosion. "Jesus," he gasped. He felt a pressure against his skin, in his chest, his ears throbbed, and his heart jarred into a new racing rhythm. "Jeannie!" he shouted, just as she cried, "That's it! Now let's get the hell out of here." He took a last glance back but the site was now invisible. Whatever had happened had disappeared.

A few minutes later, David said, "Um, where are we going?"

"Oh, yeah," Hannah said. "To Lake Atlin. I've got the coordinates here." From the messenger bag she had tucked by her feet she drew a wad of papers. "Flashlight?" she said to Jeannie, putting her left hand up. Jeannie smacked the small flashlight into Hannah's palm. She leaned forward to mask the light; David appreciated the consideration. "It's almost due north," she said. "We'll have to fly over Alaska, but I guess that's okay." She didn't sound at all confident.

"Got a bearing?" David asked.

"355.616°. It's four hundred and thirty-five miles till we can re-fuel." She looked up at him from her crouched position, her body still shielding the light so as not to blind him. "Is that okay?"

"With this weight? We'll make it," he said. He tried not to show how rattled he'd been by that weird explosion. He took a deep breath, then another, before setting their course. Nearly due north, as Hannah had said. She was good at this, told himself, but his heart still hurtled in his chest and he was freaked by the notion that the weight of his plane had just been shoved aside.

"Are you all right?" Jeannie asked him, leaning between the two front seats. "Coffee?" She handed him a travel mug.

"Where the hell did you get this?" he asked. Hannah took the mug until he could reach for it.

"Um, before you arrived. Also, nice to meet you, David. You look a lot like John."

"Thanks!" He sipped cautiously; the coffee was still scalding. "Nice to meet you, too, and hell of a job you guys did."

"Thank you," she said, sounding prim.

"I've, uh, I've been following your work," he added. "Really impressive stuff."

After a silence, Hannah said, "He's a journalist. Proto-journalist. Not stalking you."

"Blogger," he corrected her. "So, Doctor Miller, why didn't you go to Atlantis?"

Behind him, he heard her sigh. "I have a husband and a little girl. Also, if you've been following me, you must know I don't have my doctorate."

"Might as well," he said. "Who were all those people? I recognized your brother, and my cousin, of course, and Hannah's brother Evan. And Radek Zelenka, but all the others?"

After a moment, Jeannie said, "Just people who wanted to go home."

"That's enough, David," Hannah said in her big-sister way. He made a face even though no one could see him. He was still charged up on adrenaline and a bit star-struck by those he'd recognized, and in his head having conversations with his cousin now several million miles away, but he realized that Jeannie and Hannah were worn out. He sipped at his coffee and fell silent. They had almost four hours of flying ahead of them, in the dark, and part of it over hostile territory known as Alaska. He had his work cut out.

Jeannie leaned forward again, this time passing a mug to Hannah, who took it gratefully. "You all right?" Hannah asked her. David couldn't hear what Jeannie said, but he saw the look on Hannah's face. "You'll see him again," Hannah said firmly. "I know I'll see Evan again."

"Not for years," Jeannie said, loud enough for David to hear. "But when I go, I'll come for you."

Hannah grinned back at her, and then at David. "Come for him, too," she said, gesturing with her mug at David. "You want to see Atlantis, too."

"Oh god, yeah," he said, and they laughed again.

He loved being in the air, and tonight was magic. The visibility was perfect, the sky dense with stars but no moon. Beneath, water glistened. He passed Hannah his coffee so he could slide open the side window an inch to smell the ocean air. He brought the Beaver up to around twenty thousand feet, high enough not to have to worry about any mountains. The air was cold, though, bitterly so, and he realized he was trembling so he shut the window.

"It's okay," Hannah told him, her voice kind.

Jeannie reached over his seat back and put her hands on his shoulders. "I should have warned you," she shouted into his ear. She began to rub his shoulders and he discovered he'd tensed up as if expecting more explosions.

"It's okay," he repeated, and then more firmly, "I wanted to be here, hell, I've been working on this story for years."

"There is no story," Hannah said, and Jeannie's hands froze.

"No, no, not, not like that," he said quickly. He adjusted their heading. "I mean someday I'll bust this wide open but not when you guys are in any danger. Just keep me in the loop, okay? Promise?"

Jeannie began to work on his shoulders again. "Your muscles are locked up solid," she said. "I don't even do this for my husband. Hannah, he's still shaking," she added.

"There's no place to set down," Hannah said to them. "We can't land in the US, not with Jeannie aboard. Are you going to be okay?"

David started to answer but made himself think about her question. Jeannie shook him gently; he sighed, and felt himself begin to relax. "Yeah." He laughed. "Hell, yeah! What an adventure! What's next? Seriously, what's next?"

He saw Hannah's face in the dim interior light; she was laughing at him, but kindly, and he knew Jeannie was, too. "First, we refuel at Atlin Lake. Then we head to Banff and get rid of this Canuck." She gestured her thumb toward Jeannie. "Then we pick up my brother-in-law Bruce the Trotskyite; we'll probably have to bail him out of jail, knowing him. And then, if you're lucky, I'll take you home to meet my mom."

"Your _mom_?" he echoed, disbelieving.

"Hey, her mum's great," Jeannie told him, squeezing hard enough he yelped.

"But, you know, everything that's happened -- there'll be more, right?"

Jeannie's hands grew still and she leaned between them again. "David, they can disappear us, you know. Your government, mine, the IOA -- that's the problem, they have too much power. You _have_ to be careful."

"I've been thinking," Hannah said, and something in her voice made David look at her. "You graduate next May, right? Have you thought about law school afterwards? It'll make you a better journalist for the kind of work you want to do." She paused, her eyes narrow. "Maybe work with me."

David felt his smile grow bigger and bigger. He started to speak, then looked ahead, out at the starry night, the Pole Star gleaming before them. "Yeah," he said. "I think I'd like to be a spook."

Hannah smacked his arm, but all three of them laughed. Jeannie gave a final squeeze to his shoulders before settling back. He heard her digging through her enormous pack and then she passed a brown paper bag to Hannah, who peered inside. "Cookies!" she said, and handed one to David.

* * *

_flowers_  
"It was a bunny."

"It had _teeth_!"

"It didn't have slathering fangs," Rodney snapped. "Get over it."

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth said quietly and, to Chuck's relief, they fell silent. For a moment.

Chuck heard Sheppard mutter, "It contains _ergonovine_ , for fuck's sake."and then he heard Ronon rumble, "Shut it, Sheppard."

Another pause and then Rodney whispered, "Shut it, Sheppard," in tones mocking Ronon, and Chuck heard a thwap that he knew from long experience meant that John had smacked the back of Rodney's head.

Elizabeth turned to survey the group. Next to Chuck stood Andres Herrera, a high-energy astrophysicist, and Xiaohong Liu, who should have been the officer of the watch but had switched with Elspeth de Moye so he could attend the ceremony. The three of them stood quietly before the stargate while behind and to one side of them Sheppard and his team twitched. Or at least Sheppard and McKay twitched; Teyla, Chuck saw, was her usual serene self, while Ronon glowered at the other two. "I trust this will be a successful diplomatic mission resulting in a trade alliance and perhaps a closer relationship with the Po as the first step to an interplanetary peacekeeping force," she said quietly.

"Also could be a helluva party," Sheppard drawled, and Elizabeth smiled.

"A helluva party indeed," she said, and then looked up to operations where Radek Zelenka stood next to Iris Bobenko at the computer console for the DHD.

"Ready?" Iris called, and Elizabeth nodded.

"Take care of my city," Rodney shouted to Radek, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, Rodney, and you take care of yourself. You, too," he added to Elizabeth, who smiled beautifully at him. The stargate engaged and the wormhole roared, the radiant blue boiling out, always frightening to Chuck, and then fell into its false rippling of its false water, so seductive. Elizabeth moved confidently ahead, until Colonel Sheppard gently took her arm to slow her so Teyla and Sheppard could lead. Rodney walked beside Elizabeth, Chuck, Xiaohong, and Andres following, and behind them strode Ronon.

The transition between one side of the stargate to the other was, as always, shocking to Chuck: cold in a way he'd never experienced before, not even wintering over in Antarctica, and breathless -- he felt hollowed out by the cold of vacuum, the suffocation of interstellar space. They stepped out onto a world of blossoms: mounds clustered against his sneakers, enormous flowered boughs above the stargate, tossed in the artificial wind generated by the opening of the gate, pale pink petals flew and tumbled and twirled.

"Welcome!" the Hypdavos of Po cried, and Elizabeth made a sort of half bow, half curtsy to the Hypdavos, who stretched out her arms in greeting. "Welcome," she said again.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "This is so kind of you."

"It has been many years since off-worlders witnessed the burning," the Hypdavos said. She linked her arm with Elizabeth and they started walking along a petal-strewn path of white cobblestones. Chuck's heel slipped on a flutter of petals but Ronon caught him by the back of his jacket and steadied him. He smiled his thanks and returned his attention to the way. Paralleling the cobblestoned path a channel of water chattered over small boulders.

Their walk took them down a gentle hill overhung by trees heavy with the pink blossoms and the air was full of a scent Chuck knew didn't exist back on Earth. He inhaled deeply, so often he grew lightheaded, but the air smelled so good and the day was so beautiful: the sun bright but not hot, a slight breeze tumbling the petals through the air and along the path, the surrounding hills a pale blue-green. He didn't get off-world often and treasured these moments

The path led them deeper between the hills, curling to the left to slowly reveal the ceremonial grounds of the Po. "Heyahahaha!" the Hpydavos called, making Chuck start and Rodney trip over his feet. As they drew nearer, Chuck began to hear over the joyous noise of the water bells ringing: small bells and large softly ringing. They came down to a level area thick with ankle-high blue-green grass. From the cobblestone path the Hpydavos led them onto a white narrower gravel path that crunched beneath Chuck's boots; the path continued curling through the parti-colored tents: red, orange, yellow. The bells were hung from wooden tent stakes protruding horizontally from the flat tops of the tents.

"This similar to Christo's project in Central Park," Elizabeth said, though to whom Chuck didn't know.

They continued along the path, and Chuck realized it was a non-linear labyrinth. "Hunh," he heard Rodney say as they entered the grounds proper. Chuck saw its perimeter was demarcated with colors. He bent over to study them and realized the meandering boundary was composed of colored petals: red, orange, and yellow.

As they followed the coiling path deeper into the grounds, Chuck saw that the tents were empty -- that in fact they were not tents at all but tall flattened arches of colored cloth stirring in the gentle breeze. Voices floated on the wind, growing louder as they neared the center, until after a final turn around a scarlet flap of silken cloth, he saw the Hpydavos' people.

Like her, they were small and dark skinned, standing in curved rows, and he realized they wore bells: tiny bells in their hair and larger bells dangling from the ends of long scarves wound around their shoulders or waists. Men and women, boys and girls, stood talking but they smiled at the sight of the Hpydavos and her guests, the children bouncing in place so their bells jangled louder. "Heyahahaha!" they called; "Heyahahaha!" Chuck laughed and called back, "Heyahahaha!" Ronon and Teyla did, too, and then Elizabeth, and finally Sheppard and McKay, laughing at each other as they did.

"Welcome, welcome!" the Hpydavos told them, taking their hands, one by one, swinging her way through the crowd. Chuck counted quickly: fifteen rows with, hmm, thirty in each row more or less, so nearly five hundred people gathered. He turned in a circle marveling at the size -- wandering through the tents had fooled him as to the enormity of the grounds. "Is this everyone?" he asked Teyla when he turned again to find her beside him.

"All Po who remain,"" she said, and he saw tears in her eyes. "Culled or killed, their world is too near the Wraiths'."

"Then why stay?" Rodney demanded. He frowned at the Hpydavos, deeper in the crowd now, her people clustering around her. "It's crazy."

"Rodney," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, yes, cultural sensitivity, but seriously, how is that not crazy?"

No one from Atlantis answered him, perhaps no one could, and then the Po who had greeted their leader began to greet them. "Welcome, welcome," they said, taking their hands. Chuck shook many hands, studying the faces he met. "Do not be confused," one older woman told him, patting his hand. She touched his forehead, and he realized she was trying to smooth his frown. "This is a time of happiness," she explained. A little boy jumped next to him, standing on his toes to study the patch on Chuck's shoulder.

"It's a symbol of where I'm from," he told him.

"And now you're here!" the little boy said. At that moment a gust of wind caught the tents and stretched the fabric taut so it shimmered and glistened in the sunlight. Showers of petals eddied around them, pink dust devils rising into the sky. The woman took Chuck's hand and pulled him into the crowd; he saw the others were being brought in as well. They backed away from the tents to the far rim of the grounds, but remained on the soft grass inside the perimeter marked by the colored flower petals.

The Hpydavos said, "Thank you for coming to witness the great greeting. The vitra comes rarely, even less frequently in these bad days. I am honored to be Hpydavos and doubly honored that the vitra has come." She paused, and Elizabeth made the bow-curtsy again. "Come," the Hpydavos said, gesturing to either side of her. Elizabeth stood next to the Hpydavos, facing the tents, while Chuck and the others were herded to the center of the Po and also turned to face the tents.

They stood for a long time, quiet. The sun rose higher. The breeze died down. Petals sank onto the lawn and decorated the top of the arching tents. The silence was profound. Chuck began to sweat.

He listened. Only occasionally did a bell ring now, and no one but a few children spoke. And Rodney and John, he heard, their muffled voices familiar to him. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. He was tired and had to pee.

His eyes were fluttering shut when his knee gave out and he jerked, catching himself before he fell, and at that moment he saw one of the tents burst into flame. He started forward, then stopped --- what could he do? What that supposed to happen? Another tent popped into flame, the colors nearly matching, yellow and yellow, both flickering wildly. More burst into flame, more burned, the flames reaching up, heat wavering the sky, and no one moved. All the Po watched avidly, smiling, and the Hpydavos looked so happy.

Then Chuck saw that the tents weren't burning, they were transforming, the fires taking on the color of the silk and reaching out enormous wings. Or rather, he saw they had never been tents at all. The creature cracked its back loudly, and stretched its neck up, opening its mouth for a tongue to curl out as red as the tents fabric that hadn't been fabric at all. It opened its eyes: yellow, and the scales glowed orange. The long wings were tipped with what looked like talons and the head was a large as a puddlejumper. It blinked, and looked at Chuck.

He felt staggered by the glance, known and recognized. The people around him caught his arms, and he felt Ronon's fist again in the back of his jacket. "What it is?" he whispered, but he knew it was the vitra that this ceremony was welcoming. "Welcome," he said to it, and the vitra laughed, raising its wings higher. "How?" he asked, but no one answered.

His colleagues moved back deeper into the dazzled crowd, Ronon and Sheppard pushing Elizabeth behind them, Teyla putting a protective arm around her. The Hpydavos flashed a smile at them, then returned her gaze to the vitra above her. She walked forward, hands outstretched and rising into the air to greet it

The tents burned, the fabric flying up like sparks into the blurring air -- no, Chuck reminded himself: they revealed themselves as the vitra which grew easier to see. Its wings reached out farther, nearly horizontal above the ground, but cast no shadow. With one enormous flap it hovered above them, with another it rose even higher, and then it soared up riding the currents of the heated air, fading from view as the altitude cooled it. The Hpydavos was left below, small and smiling, her tears flashing in the brilliant light.

Chuck was drenched through, a bit light-headed, and ready to return to Atlantis.

He remained at the perimeter while the Po began clearing the grounds. Implements appeared that let them rake the long singed grasses, hauling away the remains of the tents, or wings, or body, whatever. Some raked the white path. Some carried away debris. Chuck just stood and watched. A wind rose, a lazy whirl of wind collecting petals of pink and red and orange and yellow, carrying them up into the sky as if yearning after the vitra.

Chuck put out a hand and caught a petal. He crushed it and brought it to his nose. A hot sweetness diffused into the swirling air, as dry as dust but as delicate as a dying rose. He looked up at last, seeking the Atlantians. Through the crowd he saw that Elizabeth was with the Hpydavos, with Teyla and Ronon at her side. To his right, in the center of the ceremonial grounds, Andres was kneeling with Xiaohong at his shoulder, both peering into the papery remains of the vitra or tents. Andres jumped up to take a rake from a pretty young woman with curly dark hair and began to help her clear the grounds; Xiaohong folded his arms to watch them.

Chuck turned, hunting Sheppard and McKay. He dusted his hands and was reaching for his radio when he saw them, together, of course, shoulder to shoulder, McKay with a life-signs detector in his hands. Their heads were together while they peered into the instrument, and Chuck saw them laugh suddenly. John swung an arm around Rodney's shoulders and he shook him gently, laughing loud enough that Chuck could hear him across the crowded field. People moved in front of him, Po laughing, many carrying children, and through a break in their passing, Chuck saw Rodney rest his head against John's, briefly, but long enough.

Smiling to himself, he turned to jog across the grounds to help Andres help the pretty girl.

* * *

_cloud watching_  
"You're kidding," Rodney said. Teyla unobtrusively pinched his arm just above where it rested on the counter between them and their hostess. "Ow! I mean, oh, yes, of course." Teyla continued to smile blandly.

"The Almagest is our eldest and most revered incunabulum," Té Sudd explained. "It is said that Sater Amun, following the teachings of Beatrix, peace be upon her gentle name, copied her words. Beatrix traveled throughout the land despite the dangers of the time. Sater became an early disciple of hers and followed her until his death. At that time, Sater had students of his own who preserved his writings."

"And Beatrix?" Teyla asked. Rodney thought she looked genuinely interested so, fearing another pinch, remained silent.

"Beatrix lived a long and full live," she said. "She walked everywhere, tireless in her effort to teach the _scire_." At Teyla's look, she continued. "How to study, to analyze, and thus to synthesize." She spread her hands widely. "Beatrix taught that the universe is here for us to study; _scire_ is meditation, work, and love. She found many interconnections, and made many realizations about the nature of the universe."

That caught Rodney's attention. He leaned forward to see what The Almagest looked like. Not a book, or a codex. Not a scroll. More like the obliquely folded bellows of an accordion, an instrument Teyla knew from her experience with Earth festivals. Rodney started to reach out, then pulled back his hand and looked at the Té, who smiled at him and gently opened a few folds of The Almagest. At the top were a few words Teyla could not read, a large red figure -- perhaps a letter in an alphabet unknown to her -- and then what she knew from Rodney to be an equation:

r=\frac{p}{1+\varepsilon\, \cos\theta}

"That's Kepler's first law," Rodney said. He looked as though he'd been struck on the head. Teyla frowned at him. "Kepler, he's -- it doesn't matter, but his first law, _the orbit of every planet is an ellipse with the Sun at a focus_ , that's it. Symbolically. Here.

"How old is this?" he demanded of the Té

She smiled warmly for the first time. "I understand your excitement," she said. "This is, as I said, our eldest and most revered." She gently folded the document. Teyla saw how fragile the vellum was, nearly translucent, the folds soft and fraying. "Beatrix lived and taught nearly two millennia ago, and we believe this is the first of many that Sater Amun created."

"Two millennia," Rodney whispered. He looked, Teyla thought, awestruck, not an emotion frequent to him. "May I?"

"Gently, dear one, gently," the Té said, but held out The Almagest, holding it as if it were an infant. Rodney didn't take it but simply lay one finger against a fold. Teyla watched him breathe deeply; he was, she saw, moved.

"Thank you," he said at last, and bowed, though whether to the Té or to The Almagest, Teyla could not say.

"Rodney? Teyla?" John called. She turned to see him standing hipshot beneath the arch that led into the Scriptorium, Ronon looming behind him.

"We will be there shortly," Teyla said, and looked up at Rodney. He was still staring at The Almagest. "Do you wish to remain here for a while longer?" she asked him.

"What? Oh, no, I, uh, thank you, Té Sudd," he said, blinking rapidly. She smiled at him and reached across the counter to pat his arm.

"You are welcome, Rodney."

Teyla opened her mouth to thank the Té but John, sounding impatient, said, "Guys?"

"Yes, yes, keep your pants on," Rodney said, and bustled away, leaving Teyla to bow again to the Té and follow as quickly as she could. "Well?"

"Good stuff," Ronon said, and tossed Rodney one of the oblong purple fruit they'd come to barter for. She noticed John's lips were faintly purple. She held out her hand. Ronon grinned at her and tossed her one as well.

Rodney bit enthusiastically into the fruit as they passed from the white stone librarium into the pale watery sunlight that filtered through the hazy atmosphere of this planet. "So we can go home now?" he asked through a mouthful.

John said, "Almost. Teyla needs to talk to the mad boss first."

"The Mouad Baas," she corrected him and then to Rodney said, "What was it about The Almagest, Rodney?"

He slowed his gobbling of the fruit, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His eyes took on that far-away look again.

"What?" John asked sharply.

"Kepler's second law," Rodney said. "The Almagest. How badly do you think the stargate fucks with our heads? That's why we hear English when they're speaking their own languages, right?"

"I guess," John said, sounding uncertain.

"We were taught the gate's radiation affects the speech center of the brain," Ronon said. They all turned to stare at him. "What? I went to college."

Rodney said, "Whatever, the thing is it was _Kepler's law_ , but fifteen hundred years before Kepler wrote it. Wait, how long is a year here, Teyla?"

"Twenty-six hour days, three hundred fifty-two day years," Ronon answered.

"You're on a roll," John said.

"So roughly the same," Rodney said. "Jesus. These people --" he looked around where they stood.

Teyla turned as well. The stone of the plaza was a creamy gold, the municipal librarium behind them a cool white, and ahead of them the tawny stone arch over the entry into the city, beyond which waited their puddlejumper. The plaza around them was filled with scholars and traders, the good citizens of Higd, smiling, stopping to chat, hurrying on to do their work.

Overhead, a long tongue of lustrous fog crept, dimming further the late afternoon. And farther above them, she knew, hovered a shield generated from the energy of the magnetosphere, the shield that had so shaken Rodney. Though they had come to explore trading possibilities for food, they had met with the scholars and found this.

"So advanced," he murmured.

"What're you saying?" John asked. His face had darkened and he prowled nearer Rodney. Ronon and Teyla froze, watching them. Teyla glanced at Ronon, who raised an eyebrow. "You wanna stay here? Study with them?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Moron," he said affectionately. John's face instantly cleared as Rodney bumped shoulders with him. "It's just -- two millennia ago they were doing the kind of math that we only started playing with five hundred years ago. By a guy whose mother was _tried as a witch_."

"Yeah, so we're primitive humans. Nothing new about that," John pointed out. Teyla hid a smile.

"Speak for yourself," Rodney said. "We might be late starters but we caught up." After a moment he added, "Almost."

Ronon started walking again, moving next to Teyla, so they strolled through the pale plaza together. Behind her, she heard Rodney and John follow. Rodney said, "No, really, it's almost impossible to believe, but there it was. Unless she was lying. Do you think she was lying?"

"No, Rodney," Teyla said over her shoulder. "The Té was not lying."

"Hmph," he said. Ronon winked at her. She heard Rodney say, "I -- I forget how old this place is. Especially here. You know where we are?"

John said promptly, "The planet Higd. Also known as P32-931, and also known as 51 Pegasi. Location of the first sun-like star found to have a planet. Location of the first Earth-sized planet."

"Sounds funny to say that here. To say _first_ , I mean," Rodney said. "But yeah, that's it, and here we are, and I find out they've been they've not only been here forever, but they've made advances so far beyond where we are. This shield -- we had no idea. We came for some fucking _fruit_ and find a shield. How is that possible?"

Teyla heard them stop and turned to see them tilt their heads up to study the sky above them. The clouds had thickened and lowered until they loomed just above the tops of the surrounding buildings, nearly catching on the antefixes decorating the peaks of the pale yellow tiled roofs. She thought she could catch a glimmer of something above, higher, but knew it was only her imagination. She was only watching clouds.

* * *

_fair/carnival_  
"Eeeee!" Torren cried running in crazy circles. "Eeeee! John Johnjohnjohn!" Then he fell down and rolled onto his back, laughing so hard his little belly bounced up and down.

"Oh my god," Rodney gasped, flopping next to Torren. "What is wrong with you?"

"Sugar high," John suggested, but Rodney thought he sounded a bit winded as well. "You gave him that cotton candy."

"No such thing as cotton candy in this galaxy," Rodney said, but he felt a bit guilty because it had sure tasted like cotton candy, even though it hadn't been spun.

Torren sighed hugely and peeked up at Rodney from beneath his thick lashes. "Rodney," he said, or rather _Wodney_ ; Rodney thought it was adorable, though no one could never make him admit it. "More?"

"Your mom wouldn't like that, buddy," John told him, crawling on hands and knees to hover over Torren. He leaned down and blew raspberries on Torren's bare belly.

"Don't tell Mumma," Torren argued reasonably.

"Riiiight," John said. "Like we'd ever go behind your mumma's back."

"What's behind Mumma's back?" he asked.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "All right, enough with the cute," he said. He grabbed John around the middle and tried to wrestle him to the ground. Torren's wonderful laugh peeled out again. John went limp and lay on top of Rodney, arms outspread, making Rodney _oof_ and shove him off. All three lay on their backs staring up at the sky.

It was, Rodney thought, a perfect day. About twenty degrees, the dark blue sky of Athos occasionally punctuated by puffy white cumulus clouds, a slight breeze stirring the glossy green leaves of the magnolia-like trees surrounding the fairgrounds.

Or what he and John called the fairgrounds. The combination fair and circus and what Elizabeth had called a Tent Chautauqua traveled from world to world to world. The Athosians had missed it for years; partly the fault of the Atlantians, Rodney knew, not that they would ever say so. But here they were at last, and everyone who could be spared had come through the gate for a visit.

Torren flipped over and crept toward Rodney, who pretended not to see him. His mouth twitched in amusement but he was good at hiding that. Instead, he stared up, thinking that _that_ cloud bore a striking resemblance to a puddlejumper.

Torren pounced, and Rodney yelped obligingly, making all three of them laugh. Then Torren yawned, and rested his head on Rodney's belly. Rodney lifted his head awkwardly to peer down at him; Torren yawned again, his eyes slowly closing. Rodney rested a hand on Torren's shoulder, and settled back himself.

He heard and then felt John nudge closer. No one spoke. In the distance the noise of the fair was as soothing as the sound of the breeze. Rodney rolled his head to his left and felt John's breath against his cheek. He also smelled of the sugary cotton candy they'd shared.

Rodney wanted to say: _Rest. I'll take care of you, of both of you_ , but he kept quiet, feeling his companions slide into sleep. Grass stalks prickled his neck as they unbent, and he could smell them, too, green and alive.

John snored in his adenoidal way, and Rodney smiled. Torren weighed comfortably on him. He knew that Teyla and Kanaan were listening to a speaker, that Ronon had taken Amelia to a musical performance -- he thought he could hear it now, soft joyful voices merging with the noise of the leaves, and that Woolsey had taken Sam, visiting from the _General Hammond_ , to meet with members of the Coalition.

Everybody was safe, Rodney thought. Shadows of the satiny leaves brushed across his face, sunlight sparkling between them. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Everybody was safe. He let his head rest more heavily against John's. He hovered at the border of sleep, heavy and still. Safe.


End file.
